


Death Comes Softly

by stripeypirate



Category: Naruto
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Blood and Gore, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Horror, New England Gothic, Protective Uchiha Itachi, Psychological Trauma, Supernatural Elements, Uchiha Itachi-centric, Uchiha Massacre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripeypirate/pseuds/stripeypirate
Summary: Fugaku Uchiha uproots his family and moves them to the quaint seaside town of Bell's Hook under mysterious circumstances that his eldest son Itachi is still struggling to understand. When a string of murders sends shockwaves through the community, Itachi is forced to face horrendous truths about his family and take drastic action to protect what he values most.





	Death Comes Softly

"I don't get why we have to move again. This is stupid." Sasuke gives the car seat in front of him a half-hearted kick.

Itachi sighs and turns his face to the cloudless blue sky. He _knows_ Sasuke is being rhetorical, that his younger brother is very well aware why they are moving and doesn’t need it explained to him, and yet, if he’s going to act like a petulant child-

"We're moving because Dad transferred to a new division. He'll be the chief of police there, which is a big, important promotion."

Predictably, Sasuke catches on to the condescension and scowls.

"So? Our old place was fine. Plus the chief there liked Dad so much he woulda gotten promoted in a few years anyway. Don't see why he has to drag us around like dirty laundry all the time."

"That's enough," Their mother interrupts from the driver's seat. Mikoto never takes her eyes from the road, but Itachi can feel her glaring nonetheless. "Your father works very hard to provide for this family. You should show him your respect. This isn't a decision he made lightly."

Sasuke opens his mouth to argue, but he must have caught sight of the vein pulsing in her temple because he closes it immediately and goes back to staring out the window.

_This would be more romantic if we were travelling by train. Like the start of some late nineteenth-century American folk novel. A new beginning awaits as long as you've got a few coins in your pocket and a give 'em hell attitude. Just keep moving West._

_Only we're headed east and we aren't looking to start over so much as we're trying not to end._

Itachi snorts. Fucking poetic.

 

* * *

He counts the miles in greasy fast-food containers and leg cramps. He reads graffiti carved into bathroom stalls; "Call 4 a gud time", "Mike was here", "fuk u." Little shrines of profanity sprinkled along the road. He thinks about adding something of his own design, but finds himself paralyzed with indecision. Leaving a mark like that is a responsibility. A piece of himself left behind for strangers to stare at while they are shitting, or fucking, or trying to amuse themselves like he is.

He doesn’t want people's eyes to rove over it and forget by the time they’re back in their cars. He wants them to remember, to question. That way they'd carry him around in the back of their minds for years, pull him out and wonder late at night before falling asleep; Who was the anonymous vandal? What was he trying to say?

"Are you almost done in there?" Sasuke's voice bounces off the tile, amplifying his disgust. "Eat more fiber or something, God."

Itachi folds up the knife and tucks it carefully into his pocket so the shape doesn’t show. He makes a point to run the faucet for thirty seconds, splashing his hands under every now and then until they’re just wet enough.

"I'm coming. No need to be vulgar."

"No need to pretend like you're still studying for the SATs," Sasuke shoots back. He’s busy sticking his fingers into the change slots in all the vending machines, searching for a forgotten quarter or two. 

"I didn't have to study."  

"Well I won't either!"

"Boys, come on and get in the car," Mikoto calls impatiently from where she's been examining a row of dusty-looking travel brochures. "I'd like to make it to Bell's Hook before nightfall."

Itachi groans inwardly and gives his legs one final stretch.

_Crowds of anonymous people pass through every day without leaving any impact at all. How many ghosts haunt a place like this- people who weren't able to move on?_

When no one is looking, he takes one of the brochures and tears the cover in half. "DISCOVER" it reads above an impossibly white mountain peak. Itachi folds it neatly and tucks it in next to his knife.

The other half of the brochure flops over forlornly in the display rack.

"ALASKA," it waves at Itachi's retreating back.

 

* * *

 

The town of Bell's Hook sits huddled between the New England coast and a canning factory. Its houses are white clapboard, weathered by rain and wind, with red or blue shutters pulled tight against the darkness. The roads are narrow and unnecessarily convoluted; as if the town is afraid of over-stepping an invisible boundary, instead curling deeper within itself through cobblestone alleys. 

They drive around in circles for almost half an hour with Mikoto cursing with increasing frequency under her breath before they pull into the driveway of a neat little two-story; complete with a white picket fence around a small, sandy front yard.

"It stinks here," Sasuke wrinkles his nose as he hops out of the car, stumbling on legs that are numb from sitting.

Itachi follows slowly, giving his legs time to stretch and luxuriate in their newfound space. The smell of fish and salt permeates the air.

"You'll get used to it. I bet the people who live here don't even notice. I think it's refreshing, personally." The night wind brings a chill in from the sea. A delicious shiver runs down his spine. It smells Lovecraftian; of monsters lurking in the damp.  

Mikoto gives him a grateful look as she pulls a stray hair away from her mouth.

"Come on, let's get inside. You can explore the yard tomorrow. Your father's been waiting."  

Itachi's gaze slides to the window. Thick yellow curtains block his view, but he can see a cross-armed silhouette.

_The Master awaits._

Sasuke drops the rock he’s inspecting and hastily wipes his hands on his pants. Mikoto clucks her tongue and motions him over so she can scrub at a streak of dirt on his cheek. He grimaces but doesn't resist.

Itachi fingers the outline of the knife in his pocket as he walks up three creaky wooden steps to the porch and crosses the threshold onto the scuffed linoleum of a mudroom. He hears the shifting of floorboards as his father turns to acknowledge their arrival.

"I'm in the living room," he says by way of greeting.

Sasuke slips down the hallway towards the voice, his expression strained but eager. His steps are too measured to be natural, like he is trying to march to a specific beat no-one else can hear. Itachi grabs one of the duffle bags from his mother's laden shoulders and follows the floral wallpaper after him.

His father surveys the three of them silently, eyes raking them up and down like searchlights before he speaks.

"Sasuke, your mother is not a pack mule. Carry your own luggage. You should be the one helping her, not the other way around."

Sasuke bows his head and shuffles over to take a bag, his cheeks flushing. Itachi fights the urge to throw his own duffle down at his father's feet.

"It's much later than I anticipated," he continues. "Your mother and I have some things to discuss. Your bedrooms are up the stairs to the right. Worry about unpacking tomorrow."

_Dismissed._

Once they are out of sight, Itachi puts a hand on his little brother's slumped shoulders.

"Here, let me take your bag."

"I can carry it myself," Sasuke hisses. He turns on his heel and stomps upstairs. Itachi counts to ten before he hears a door slam.

He hesitates, then sits down gingerly on the bottom step. If he tilts his head just so, he can hear the strains of his parents' conversation filter down the hall.

"The boys are already enrolled in school?" His father's deep baritone.

"Yes. They start the day after tomorrow. I figure it's be best to give them a day to settle in, get familiar with the town."

His father grumbles something he can't make out, but he doesn’t sound happy.

"Is everything all set at the precinct?"

"The Deputy Chief's been briefed on the situation. I'll be formally instated tomorrow. The rest of the force won't-"

Itachi leans forward, straining to catch what follows but his father's voice dips even lower into a dull buzz. He stands, breathless, when a loud creak sounds on stairs behind him.

"What are you doing?" Sasuke whispers at an earth shattering volume.

The voices instantly stop.

"Get back to your room," Itachi hisses.

"Why should I? You're obviously not supposed to be listening either." Sasuke takes another step forward, clutching the bannister. He hasn't even bothered to lower his voice.

"Didn't your father tell you two to go to bed?" Mikoto rounds the corner, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown. Fugaku follows in her shadow.

Sasuke scampers out of sight, leaving Itachi to bear the brunt of their laser-like gazes.

He calmly picks up his bag and turns to go.

"You know, sometimes your father and I just need to have a little private conversation."

"Oh I'm sure," he says with forced blandness.

"We put our trust in you, Itachi," Fugaku chimes in. "I judged that you were mature enough to handle such sensitive information. Don't make me regret it."

Another night in a kitchen hundreds of miles away, his father speaking through bloodless lips; _Family comes first._

"Relax," Itachi says without facing them, "Sasuke won't find out." _He still thinks the sun shines out your ass. Even if I did tell him the truth, he wouldn't believe me._

"Then I expect you'll do as you're told."

"Yes sir." _Would you like me to salute you, sir?_

"That's my boy."

 

* * *

 

In his anger, Sasuke had neglected to examine the bedrooms, merely flinging his belongings into the closest one. Itachi can hear him fake-snoring as he walks past.

His own room appears to be the larger of the two, with a slanting wooden ceiling that puts him in mind of a ship’s cabin. It’s sparsely furnished with a full-sized bed in the center and dresser off to one side that must have been too heavy for the previous occupants to move.

Itachi is pleasantly surprised to discover that, with a bit of wiggling, he’s able to fit through the window and drop down onto the lower, sloping roof below. The moon peeks through a heavy cloud cover, sending a sliver of light to bathe the street in silver.

_Like a black-and-white-movie. All I need is a starlet on my arm and a glass of champagne._

Itachi draws a battered cigarette from his pocket, one of the few he dares steal from Mikoto when she’s distracted. Eve so he has to be careful how many he takes as she only smokes when she’s under an inordinate amount of stress, though that seems to be more and more frequently these days.

_I wonder if the convenience stores around here bother to check ID,_ he thinks idly as he blows a puff of smoke that hangs thick and heavy in the air, captured by the moonlight. 

Despite the nicotine, an ache is building around his temples; his father, school, Sasuke. He finds he doesn’t have the energy to worry about any one in particular so a vague anxiety buzzes around his head like a cloud of gnats instead.

He takes another long drag, fingers twitching. Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement at the end of the block. He kneels on the rough surface of the roof to get a better look.

A girl is standing below a streetlamp. Between that and the moon, she seems incandescent. Her head turns in his direction and Itachi ducks down. The girl takes a few steps towards his house and stares for a long, breathless minute. Itachi waves a cautious hand at her but she makes no sign that she's noticed him. Finally her shoulders heave up and down; a shrug or a sigh. Clouds cover the moon just as she steps out of the streetlight's glow and she melts away into the darkness.

Itachi sits frozen until his cigarette burns down to his fingers. He drops what remained of the butt with a muffled curse.

_Looks like I'm not the only night owl in Bell's Hook,_ he thinks to himself as he tries to calm his hammering heart.

 

* * *

 

Itachi tosses and turns through the night, and by the time sunlight sticks its fingers through his blinds it feels as though he's hardly slept at all.

Sasuke is already in the kitchen, tucking into a bowl of cereal. He looked up and grins as Itachi walks by, last night's animosity forgotten.

"Can we go exploring today? Pleeeeeeease? Mom says we don't even have to go to school for a whole 'nother day but she won't let me go out by myself so-"

"Sure," Itachi ruffles his hair distractedly. "Where's dad?"

"Work," he scowls as he tries to flatten the cowlicks Itachi has created. "Why do you care?"

"None of your business." Itachi scans the newspaper. The headlines are all innocuous, small-town news; a dog park opening, the winner of the annual Fun in the Sun Run, approaching elections for the school board.

_Nothing about the new Chief of Police taking office. You'd think that'd be a big deal around here._

The paper crinkles as Sasuke yanks the top edge down.

"You shouldn't lean on the table like that," Itachi says mildly, just to see the indignity flare in his younger brother's eyes. 

"Hurry up. Before you know it you'll be too old and reading the paper in the morning will be the only source of joy in your life," he retorts with a sniff. "I'll meet you out front. I got the bikes set up and everything."

_Can't argue with that logic._

Itachi folds up the paper carefully and returns it to its original position _just so_ in front of a plate of half-eaten toast and cold coffee. No doubt his father had rushed off this morning. In an instant he can see the rest of his life laid out before him in a series of half-eaten breakfasts and perfunctory goodbye kisses.

_Work hard, get recognized, work harder. Rinse. Repeat._

He shudders. Fortunately, Sasuke is already hollering from the front yard to break him out of his monotony.

 

* * *

 

They ride without any particular destination in mind, though they eventually find themselves on the dubiously named Main Street of the town. It’s filled with family-run diners and stores that sell things like lamps covered in seashells to tourists. There are still quite a few of them loitering about with their peeling noses, trying to soak up as much sun as they can before the summer officially gives way to fall.

"I wonder how many kids'll be at school." Sasuke hasn't stopped chattering since they'd dismounted to navigate the crowds. "I mean, no matter what we're gonna be top of the class right?" He looks to Itachi for confirmation. He nods.

"I hope it's not hard to make friends here. At our last school..."

Itachi is about to press for details when he notices Sasuke's mouth fall into a hard, stubborn line eerily like his father's.

_I'll have to wait and bring that up another time._

"What about you?" Sasuke asks suddenly. "Are you gonna be sad you can't graduate with your friends?"

“Not really.”

“Why?”

_Because the people you meet in high school are arbitrary and unimportant in the grand scheme of your life anyway. Why make connections that are going to slowly erode away in two, four, ten years?_

He buys Sasuke an ice cream from a shop shaped like a vanilla twist cone instead of answering. 

 

* * *

 

The trip home is slow as the ice cream forces them to keep walking their bikes and Sasuke has to stop every few steps to lick the chocolate that’s running down his fingers. They’re approaching the end of their block when he pauses, the cone halfway to his lips, and cocks his head to the side like a curious little bird.

“D’you think Dad’s there?” He points across the street to a lawn outlined with yellow crime scene tape.

Itachi feels a tug behind his navel, an inexorable pull like the house is a black hole that threatens to swallow the very sidewalk they are standing on. The only sound is the breeze off the ocean, whistling between the houses like a lonely ghost.

“No cop cars. Looks like everyone’s cleared out.” The emptiness beckons. “Do you want to find out what happened?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, merely sets down his bicycle and walks up to the very edge of the lawn. Sasuke follows, eyes wide.

“We can’t! That’ll contaminate-”

“Then wait here and guard our stuff. I don’t care. They’ll only find out if we aren’t careful. Or you tell,” he adds pointedly, though he can see that Sasuke is already set on following him in the stubborn way he folds his arms.

Itachi slips under the tape, crosses the line from the mundane into the taboo. He’s in a forbidden corner of the world, and that thought gives him a rush better than the first drag of any cigarette.

“How’re we supposed to get in? The door’s sealed up,” Sasuke whispers as if they whole neighborhood was listening.

“Look for a window around the side. I doubt they’ll be locked.” _But if they are…_ he pats the knife in his pocket to reassure himself.

Sasuke skirts the front with an exaggerated tip-toe, trying his best to stay out of sight behind a row of scrubby bushes that lines the property. Itachi rolls his eyes and strolls up to the window his brother is trying to surreptitiously peer into.

“If you act like you belong, nobody’s going to pay any attention to you.”

“Oh.” Sasuke straightens up sheepishly.

The living room appears to be in good order; only a jumble of books lying next to a half-empty case catches his eye.

_Signs of a struggle. Burglary gone wrong? Domestic dispute?_

A mug is perched precariously on the coffee table.

_Like it had been set down in a hurry._

They continue on to the rear of the house, where a set of three large bay window looks out over an expansive back yard. The view from the mornings would have been spectacular. The view from the outside is an entirely different story.

Itachi remembers reading somewhere that the human body holds 4-5 liters of blood. He remembers the time he and Sasuke dropped a couple of Mentos in a soda bottle to see what would happen. This kitchen looks like theirs had, only thicker and red.

_Father’s hands were red too, couldn’t quite get it out from under his fingernails._

“Holy shit,” Sasuke breathes. His face is the color of milk, his eyes two black holes in the center of his face but he doesn’t move as if he’s rooted to the ground.

Itachi practices separating. He forces himself to take in every tiny detail from the blood flecks on the soap dish, to the smeary handprint that reaches from the telephone receiver down the wall. If he focuses all his attention on these things, working to process how and why they came to be, then the space he has to feel horror or disgust becomes smaller and smaller and is eventually crowded out. He notes with a hint of satisfaction that he’s getting better.

“I want to go home.” Sasuke is far too stubborn to cry but his voice is small and lost. Suddenly he’s a little kid again and Itachi kicks himself for forgetting, even for a moment. He takes his brother’s clammy hand and they return to their bikes. Sasuke’s legs are shaking too badly for him to ride.

“Hey, you’ve seen some of the crime scene photos in Dad’s office, right?”

Sasuke nods reproachfully. They’d both been warned not to go leafing through his files but Itachi had been eleven years old once too.

“Well this is the same thing, only in person. It can’t hurt you.”

“I guess. It’s just…” He bites his lower lip and casts a fearful glance back at the house, as if a ghost could come wailing out at any moment, hatchet in hand. “This is _real_. All the blood… We can’t tell anyone we were here?”

Itachi shakes his head. “Technically we contaminated a crime scene. Don’t you think Dad would go ballistic if he found out?”

“Yeah.”

“So let’s get going. All we have to do is act normal.”

Silence hangs like over them like a wet wool blanket the rest of the way home.

 

* * *

 

Fugaku is late for dinner. The sit around the table waiting while the roast beef Mikoto prepared slowly grows cold.

“We’ll wait another fifteen minutes and if he still isn’t here we’ll go ahead and start without him. He said he’d be on time tonight,” she says to reassure the boys.

Itachi is secretly relieved at the delay. His insides are buzzing with excitement and nicotine; upstairs is a notepad with every detail he can possibly remember about the crime scene written down before he could forget it. The next step would be to start sorting through all the information, categorizing the useful from the superfluous, the clues from chance.

_No signs of forced entry, but there was definitely a struggle. I’ll have to find out who lived there. Doesn’t seem like a domestic violence case though. No attempts to conceal the damage. Could it be a serial killer? I might be able to get some information from Dad if I’m careful about it…_

At that thought, the front screen door slams shut with a bang. Sasuke jumps two feet out of his chair before their father’s voice rumbles down the hall.

“Smells good in here! Hope you haven’t been wait-”

He stops when he spies the look on Mikoto’s face, and the table spread out before him.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” the crags of his face seem harsher, more shadowed. “Long day.” He runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his chair. “Shall we eat?”

Sasuke turns a faint shade of green as he pokes at the meat with his fork.

“Any interesting cases?” Itachi asks, keeping a careful eye on his little brother. Sasuke stiffens but otherwise does a good job of pretending he didn’t hear.

Fugaku grunts. “Not unless you count small town politics. The mayor seems to think he knows how to run a precinct better than we do so it’ll be hard keeping him out of our hair. Other than that, it’s the same old drunks and domestics you find anywhere else.”

“I see.”

Sasuke squirms in his chair and Itachi knows he’s thinking the same thing. _What we saw today didn’t look like a run of the mill crime. Is he hiding something or do the police truly believe it’s an open and shut case?_

“Are you feeling alright dear? You’ve hardly touched your dinner.” Mikoto stretches out a hand to feel Sasuke’s forehead but he ducks down underneath it.

“’M fine. Just… nervous about school tomorrow that’s all,” Sasuke says. He forces himself to take a big bite and chews enthusiastically until Mikoto turns her attention to their father.

“Do you think the mayor will give you any trouble?” she asks nonchalantly, but Itachi knows enough of the secret language his parents share to hear the undercurrent of tension in her question.

Fugaku shrugs. “The men respect me and follow orders well. Sarutobi did a good job setting me up in this new position so I don’t anticipate any pushback from what happened back in Boston.”

Itachi shifts forward, but Mikoto cuts her eyes towards Sasuke and they lapse back into inane smalltalk. He sighs and bounces his knee up and down under the table, counting down until he’s reached an appropriate time to ask to be excused.

 

* * *

 

The muggy night air is like a wet slap to the face as he steps out onto the roof, notebook in hand. The light spilling out from his bedroom is just enough to see by, and Itachi props the book up on his knees, nose inches from the page.

There’s so much going on in his head that for one exhilarating moment he sits with pen poised, unsure where to begin. Then he begins to catalog. He circles details of the crime scene that he thinks are most important, stars those that seem out of place; possibly irrelevant, possibly vital.

_It’s like painting a picture. I have all these colors to choose from, but I need to figure out how to best combine and arrange them so the end product makes sense._

Itachi stops for a smoke break and his eyes drift over to the streetlight. No sign of the girl from the previous night.

_Maybe she has school tomorrow too._

Itachi considers going to bed but decides the work he is doing is so much more important than anything he could possibly learn at school. He stays up until the clouds begin to streak through with red.


End file.
